


Oh, Sweet Thing

by DawningEquinox



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BDSM, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Collars, Corruption, Daddy Kink, Dom!Ghostface, Escape from the Realm AU, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Heavy BDSM, Historical Dress, Horror, Intersex OC, Loss of Virginity, Porn With Plot, Psychological Horror, Spanking, Trans Female Character, Trans Female OC, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, basically everyones in this, danny is a dick sometimes but he loves his baby, def not slow burn, light dubcon, like seriously this is also a horror not just porn, lots of smut, sub!oc, very kinky sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27629143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawningEquinox/pseuds/DawningEquinox
Summary: Adrienne Smythe is a mining heiress, close friend and fiancee of Evan MacMillan. And then he goes missing, and so does she. Launched into the Realm of the Entity, Adrienne quickly takes to survival and soon realizes that she has to be stronger than she ever has been to have even a chance of escape.And then she is dragged from what she knows with a Killer who seems to obsess over her.
Relationships: Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson | The Ghost Face/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. The Fog

**Author's Note:**

> So... This started as a little plot bunny in my shower. And now I've a fair bit of it. There's a little more bookkeeping this note than there's usually going to be, 
> 
> Onto some chatter and some warning!
> 
> This is gonna be pretty dark. Danny and Adrienne's relationship is *not* healthy, and this isn't a slow burn, either. At all. Infatuation, possessiveness, dependency... It's hard to be in a healthy relationship with a serial killer. There's also a lot of angst; knowing everyone you love is dead and buried and so are their kids and their grandkids is hard to deal with, after all. So yes, be prepped for angst, mental illness, shitty relationships... Everything. Also, each chapter after this is gonna come with a song to listen to while you read! 
> 
> Danny looks like Matthew Lillard, as in Stu Macher, and his personality is also based off Stu, but a little smarter. What can I say, I love him. Facially, Adrienne is based off a Winterhalter portrait; specifically, of Lady Middleton. I'm a huge history nerd, sorry. Adrienne is somewhat breaking historical accuracy as being an intersex trans woman. I am trans myself, this'll be played out respectfully, no worries. In world, she was raised as female from childhood, and she is intersex, choosing to represent as female. Specifically, Adrienne suffers from Klinefelter Syndrome and gender dysphoria. I don't want to upset anyone or portray it inaccurately, so I've done my best to do as much research as I can as well as personally talking to a trans woman with Klinefelter.

Adrienne stood at the window. The thin, eggshell white silk of her gloves tightened across her knuckles as the man spoke. “We simply can’t spare the resources, Miss Smythe. MacMillan killed almost everyone in that mine, and then he disappeared. Most of the men who would’ve searched said good riddance ‘n’ wiped their hands of the matter. I can’t do anything else. I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff but trying to be comforting. Everyone knew how close their families were, and the Smythes were entangled in the murders too. Especially Adrienne. Everyone knew she and Evan were thick as thieves, meant to marry someday. Of course, Adrienne knew that her friend preferred men, but they still planned to marry anyway. As long as there were children, she didn’t care overmuch.

A little shaky sigh fell from her rosy lips and she turned to him, her lace-edged, blue skirts swishing softly on the ground like words. “Fine then. Go. Perhaps I shall find my fiance myself. Lucretia!” She called her maid gently, her chin tilted in furious, bold defiance as the sheriff shrunk back. “Ready my riding gear. I am searching for my beloved Evan myself, since the law-men cannot be bothered.” Her tone was sharp and almost needling, her infamous glare set firmly upon the Sheriff and his incompetence. Lucretia, for her merit, simply gave an amused chuckle and absconded to the dressing room to ready the young heiress’ things.

She watched him slink out, ashamed, leaving her with a rushed “Good luck then, ma’am, I’m very sorry.” and a sharp wince. With a sharp exhale and a roll of her sage green eyes, Adrienne walked to her dressing room, slipping inside it. “He was a prick,” Lucretia said lightly as she began to undress Adrienne, peeling off her many layers of cotton and lace her calloused fingers deftly pulling at the laces of her corset. Adrienne only gave a hum in response, watching the striped blue silk that pooled around her feet. She heard the ‘rap’ of her bustle cage as Lucretia folded it to put it away, and Adrienne gave a languid stretch. Quickly clad in her grey wool riding habit and riding corset, Adrienne headed downstairs, her heels clicking against the hardwood floors of her magnanimous estate. Her mother looked up from her embroidery as she slipped into the drawing room simply to state she was going riding and then promptly leaving again. Pausing for a moment at her father’s door, her hand lifted to knock before she gave a quick shake of her head and kept walking. He was too busy to need to know she was going riding. It wasn't like it was the last time they'd see each other, dinner was in a few hours.

~-~

Adrienne moved with her pale grey mare, her breath frosting on the air, her hoofs crunching on the pale snow. “Evan!” She called near desperately. Coming to the mines had been a bad idea; she could almost taste the coppery blood on her tongue, and her chest heaved with fright.

Darkness had fallen fast, and fog had set in. Adrienne did not know which way was home and she was scared; she could hear odd sounds of shrieks like metal against metal and humans in pain, like the sound of a bear trap crunching on bone. It made her nauseous. Finally she set out in a direction, any direction. Her mare tripped, sending the heiress into the dirt. The horse screamed; her leg was broken, and the bone stuck out of her leg like a gruesome, twisting tree root. Adrienne held her head in her lap until the shock and blood loss finally killed her. She was pale and shaking, and tears began to track down her cheeks until she finally stood. It felt like miles that she was walked when she finally saw a light.

“Hello?” She called weakly, her eyes wide as she came onto the clearing and the campfire. People surrounded the campfire. They all looked haggard, beat down, broken, covered in grime and blood, and they wore odd clothes. A dark-skinned woman approached Adrienne, who stared back in mild shock. The woman wore… Pants? And a strange blouse… But she took Adrienne’s hands and spoke, softly, “Oh… You’re so cold. Come sit, and we’ll explain. I'm Claudette, sweetie." 

~-~

That had been three months ago.

Adrienne knew what had happened, now. The Entity, the strange spidery thing that took them during Trials, had taken her. She was part of its’ game now, and she understood why everyone had looked so torn down. They had been here longer than she, by far, and she already understood why, profoundly so. Adrienne had been given a Sight into the Realm, more than other survivors; if the Killer that trial was close, she could see them, a pink glow against the dirt. Survivors, she could always see. She could even see the faint yellows of the Generators, which had confounded her so deeply at the start. Adrienne even wore pants now, something she had once sworn to never do despite being particularly free-thinking; high waisted, grey corduroy pants, a loose blouse that was once white but was now caked with various levels of grime, blood and machine oil from the generators, her hair a loose braid. Adrienne, on some level, knew what she was doing now.

Sometimes.

Sometimes, she stared at a Killer in a Mask as they stared back, 6 inches from his face. Ghostface always followed her, near obsessively… And he didn’t always kill her; sometimes he did, of course, though he would apologize and make it easy on her. Sometimes he would gently pick her up off the ground and push her through the hatch without ever laying a finger on her. It had happened a few times now. Adrienne hesitantly gave him a little wave, just a wiggle of her fingers. He waved back, then got closer, his breathing rustling his mask ever so slightly.

“Adrienne,” he spoke in a soft voice, but confident, almost arrogant. A chuckle escaped his mask, and he dashed off, his tendrils floating behind him on the air. She watched him leave with fascination, then shook her head clear, and got back to work. Again, this time he spared her. He hadn’t even carried her, he’d escorted her to Exit Gates like he was a gentleman at a ball, giggling under his breath whenever she flinched. She opened the Gates and walked through them, glancing at him over her shoulder every few seconds to make sure it wasn’t a trick. And it wasn’t.

Nea huffed in irritation as Adrienne made it back to the Campfire. “Did he do it again? I can’t see why he can’t spare all of us… I’m cute too, yknow,” she grumbled, and Adrienne only giggled, sitting on the log and shrugging. Nea smiled, a cocky grin that showed off her crooked teeth. The two got on quite well, often teasing eachother or playing cards when Adrienne could wheedle Ace into letting her borrow them. Thick as thieves, if they got into a match together it was often a sure bet they would both escape, usually with their hands tightly clasped together. 

“You are very handsome Nea, don’t worry about that. I don’t… Really know why, either. He even spoke my name today. I’m not sure how he knew it, but…” Adrienne trailed off and shrugged. “I won’t complain about it. I had the Clown before him. He hooked me, at least, but… I let myself...” Her words fell silent again, but every knew what she meant. Some killers, it was easier to let yourself be sacrificed than suffer an entire Trial with them. The Clown was one; The Nightmare, another. The Plague, too, was unpleasant to stay around for long. 

An uneasy silence settled over the Campfire, before a few Survivors offered sympathies and apologies. The Clown always hurt the women worse, focusing on them, making sure it hurt when they died. Sometimes, he killed them by his own hand (and boot), not by the Hook. No one enjoyed going against him; even if you survived, your lungs and throat burned until your next death or for weeks, if you survived that long. He was, simply put, a misery to escape from, and no one disagreed. She wasn't as close to the other Survivors as some were, but she was still close to them. Adrienne didn't mind her separation from the others; it made it easier, sometimes, when a Trial went badly. The ones that were particularly bonded always seemed to have a hard time when their friends were sacrificed and it took hours for them to return. She was only close with Nea. 

Adrienne forced a smile, trying not think about the searing agony of having her fingers removed, and stood up, heading to the small shack that housed the cots survivors slept on. They still had to eat, drink, and sleep, though much less than they would were they not in the Realm. One mostly slept to heal and recover from Trials. A soft chorus of ‘goodnight’ filled the air as she left, and she gave a half wave as she walked. She curled up in her preferred cot, wondering what Ghostface was like before the Entity took him. The soft snores of Meg and Quentin filled the air and calmed her slightly before she turned her thoughts back to the Ghostface. He had to have been a bad person, a murderer, to be taken as a Killer, she assumed, but he seemed so kind, at least to her. To others he was brutal, violent, even cruel. But never her. As ashamed as she was to admit it, she felt a sort of sick attraction and almost a crush on him, like they were soulmates. Guilt overtook her, and she dismissed the thought again. As she finally fell into a deep slumber, her mind stayed focused on the Ghostface and his fixation on her, and if she would ever know the cause of it.


	2. "I am Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for today's chapter is Ludo's 'The Horror of Our Love'! 
> 
> Sorry for the delay. I was planning to post it after three days, but ended up getting the flu... Whups.

Ghostface was staring at her again, like the watchful gaze of starving hawk. Adrienne remained his obsession, it seemed, and it made her heart flutter. A few Killers held these 'Obsessions'; Michael had Laurie, the Nightmare had Quentin... Though with them, it was more violent. This trial, though, he had waited to come see her until the others were dead, all sacrificed. Adrienne had done her best to unhook them, but he had staunchly followed behind them to put them on the hook. She had finished the last generator before sitting, cross-legged, on the dusty floor of Lery’s Memorial Institute. 

In return, expectantly she watched him, her head tilted slightly with curiosity. The Collapse wouldn’t start until he closed the hatch or the Gates were powered. They had time to talk, to interact more than a few short sentences. Maybe she could find out what he wanted with her so badly. Sure, she was his Obsession, but he never hurt her. In the innumerable trials since he'd begun this odd almost courtship, Adrienne had incessantly pondered that. And now, she could ask, if he wanted to talk back.

He sat down across from her, a little stiffly, and waved. “Hi, Adrienne. You look breathtaking in that little skirt. You have… Lovely ankles,” he rasped from his plastic hideaway, his shoulders shaking in a silent laugh at her visible discomfort. He pulled out a camera and snapped a photo of her, appreciating it despite her wincing at the flash, her face scrunching up. “Mmm, I think that’s one for the scrapbooks, sugarplum. I don't have enough photos of you."   
  
Adrienne let out a quiet noise of protest, her cheeks flushing red. “That's a camera? It's awful small... Anyway, that’s not why I wanted to talk to you.” She moved onto her knees, her eyebrows scrunched up and her lips pursed. “Why are you so obsessed with me, Ghostface? I didn't ask for this, you know. I want answers.” Accusatory and demanding, she returned to sitting on her haunches, her arms crossed in fiery defiance, her chin tilted up and exposing her slim, pale throat, a black choker wrapped around it. Her black, pinstriped skirt, short and only a hair past her slim knees dragged in the dust and caked-in blood of the floor as she shifted to get comfortable. It had been a beloved find; loose enough to run and move in, but a skirt, and a fine, pinstriped one with little silver clasps at her wide hips. It reminded her of home. The fact that he thought she looked 'breathtaking' in it was a well-liked bonus, though. 

Ghostface suddenly leapt forward, knocking her to the ground. One hand wrapped loosely around her throat, the other hand caressing her cheek. The soft black leather dug into her peach-soft skin, leaving a rusty smear of blood on it. Her pulse quickened and heat flushed between her legs, a sickening mix of arousal and fear. A little whimper escaped her lips as she stared up at him in fear, her chest heaving as her breath rushed in and out. Maybe she was wrong, and he would kill her for asking. “You’re mine. That’s why. Evan claimed you, first, but…” He leaned in closer, lifting the sharp plastic mask half off his face, “I ended up winning that fight. I'd win _any_ fight for you though, my sweet." He was lightly tanned with a thin, soft mouth that betrayed his murderous habits. His teeth were straight and white, clearly the product of heavy dental work, and facial hair stubbled his chin.    
  
For a moment, she wondered how handsome he was without his mask on at all, well distracted. A desire to kiss him churned in her chest, but she quickly dismissed the thought as the name Evan stuck in her mind, ‘Evan?’ Adrienne thought vaguely, her stomach dropping as she realized the possibilities. “Evan? Who’s… Who’s Evan?” She mumbled, the man’s grip on her throat not nearly tight enough, closer to resting it on her neck than anything. Leather pressed into her skin and he gave a low growl, sitting up.

“The Trapper. But he knows you’re mine, pet, don’t you worry.” He finally slid off her and tugged his mask back down, though quickly pulled her into his arms before she could move, half-dragging her into his lap. “But you’re mine, not his, understand? Do you understand me?” His voice was tinged with anger, almost a snarl in his voice. He tugged off his glove and rest his bare hand gently against her jaw, his thumb rubbing circles into her jaw. 

Her cheeks flushed red as he pulled her close. Logically, Adrienne knew that this was wrong, that she shouldn’t be enjoying a murderer, a serial killer, holding her in his arms, caressing her cheek like a husband does a wife. But she had never been touched like this, not once; her family had not been affectionate, and Evan, for all his merits, was not a man who touched people often. She had craved loving touch for so long she couldn't find it in herself to complain. Adrienne, warily, relaxed slightly into his grasp. “I… I understand, Ghostface,” She whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes.    
  
He grunted underneath his mask. “Danny. My name is Danny.” They had talked for a few more hushed moments, until they both could practically feel the anger of the Entity seeping through, and he bade her farewell until their next trial together. Adrienne, for what it was worth to herself, tried not to be overtly clingy, and failed quite spectacularly.    
  
~-~

Adrienne had returned to the campfire late, and everyone knew why. Meg rounded on her quickly with a hard look and her mouth set into a firm scowl, her arms crossed on her chest, before falling to her sides, the sprinter’s bloody knuckles whitening as her fist clenched. Nea wasn’t here to protect Adrienne from the wrath of other survivors this time, like she had once or twice before. “What the fuck, Adrienne? Why didn’t you save us? Why did you just let him fuckin’ hook us, over 'n' over? You didn't even take a hit for us! What are you, his bitch? Huh?” Meg got up in her face, though she was much shorter than Adrienne, who was taller than nearly all the other women, and some of the men. But, Meg and Adrienne both knew, despite her distinct height and reach advantage, that the athlete would easily win if the fight got physical. Meg gave Adrienne a rough shove, sending her ass into the dirt. Her chest heaved as she stared down at Adrienne, her dirty white and gold hoodie falling and rising with her desperate bretahs. 

“I don’t want to argue, Thomas. He wouldn’t let me save any of you and you know it,” Adrienne seethed, her tone knife-sharp. It wasn’t rare that Adrienne and Meg butted heads. It was quite a regular occurrence, if anything, and the rest of the group tended to avoid them when they got like this. Nothing good ever came out of it, either, and it just set everyone on edge. Had Adrienne started it as opposed to Meg, it would be resolved, but Meg was afforded quite a bit of leeway as one of the originals. Adrienne nonetheless steeled herself and stood up, primly brushing the dust off her skirt like she had fallen on her own, not like she was pushed. “I can’t control what the Ghostface does. He’s a Killer, and I’m not a psychic. I’m his Obsession, not his trainer. Stop acting like I am, Thomas,” she said in a quiet voice, taking a steadying breath to calm down. 

Despite how much it annoyed her, she couldn't fault Meg for her anger. Had their positions switched, Adrienne would be just as angry. It upset everyone when this happened, and survivors hated going against a killer with their obsession. Often they were faster, stronger, and only getting quicker until they finally killed their Obesssion. Or didn't kill, in Danny's case, though he did get much stronger. 

Meg stalked off and Adrienne sat on the log with a sigh. Claudette wordlessly passed her a bowl of mushroom stew, and she gave a soft thank you before she practically inhaled her food. She had a bad habit of forgetting to eat for hours at a time, or occasionally, a day or two. It wasn’t healthy, but she had better things to focus on.

Like Evan MacMillan being the Trapper. She remembered the bear traps, Evan nearly crying on her shoulder as he told her what was happening, hearing strange things in the forest before his and his father's demise. Nightmares that she now knew were the Entity had plagued her for mo . Adrienne also remembered when he grew cold and distant, only weeks before what happened in the mines. Her heart ached for him, what he had gone through and what he had lost. Part of her simply missed the man she had grown up next to. The Trapper had been here as long as any other Survivor could remember, which sent her thoughts spiraling. He had only been missing a week when she went to go find him and had been taken, yet they were so far apart in time when they had arrived. 

Had the Entity held her in stasis for so many years? She knew Dwight and Meg had been taken well over a century after her, Laurie in the 1970s, Nea almost exactly a century after Adrienne. It was odd, how the Entity picked and chose. It was almost cruel, like a bad joke. Adrienne wondered to herself when Danny had come to the Realm, and mouth his name silently as her cheeks flushed. Her mind drifted back to what he had told her as he guided her to the hatch, which opened from the earth like an angry maw, black fog and a thrumming, low whistle hissing from it.

“Be careful, pet. Something is coming. I can feel it,” he had rasped, the plastic of his mask rubbing against Adrienne’s cheek. And then he pushed her gently through the hatch. And then all of… _That_ had happened. She silently, cruelly wished that Meg wouldn’t come back after she was hooked, but quickly dismissed the thought. Even if she and Adrienne didn’t like each other… She shouldn’t wish death on the girl. Even if she wants to. 

Uncomfortable, she shifted, fixing her blouse and giving a languid, cat-like stretch. Her chest ached again; the doctor, back home, had explained this was entirely normal for someone of her condition, and that all that could be done was a gentle massage when it was particularly painful. It mattered very little, in the long run. Nothing could be done about it now. Her ‘condition’ was a carefully kept secret; Nea knew, as did Dwight. But, as far as Adrienne was aware, no one else knew. And it would stay that way. Secrecy was easier than openness, and despite her losing some of those instilled manners, for the most part they remained, as did her sense of privacy.

The fire spat embers at them and she felt a pull in her chest. She was already heading to another trial. The other three survivors sitting at the fire stood up; she was in a trial with Claudette, Dwight, and David (her other favorite person). Adrienne didn’t mind this group; they were her favorite three people and she flashed them all a smile. 

"Ready to go?" Adrienne queried, and her friends affirmed it. David lifted a box of tools and gave a stretch, flashing Adrienne a wide grin, to which she rolled her eyes. Dwight sighed deeply and tossed into the fire a single, gleaming coin, and murmured wishes of luck, though the woman by his side perked up;  Claudette rummaged in her pockets for a moment before tossing a statue made of black, stony salt into the campfire, a charm for luck, and gave the group grins. Their hands all interlaced tightly as the fog wrapped around them, and pulled them away. When Adrienne next opened her eyes, she was in Dead Dawg Saloon, and she took a deep breath, feeling the warm air in her lungs and the sun on her back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support on the last chapter! It means a lot to me that people are already enjoying this fic. 
> 
> .... And I did say it wasn't slow burn.


End file.
